


(say that you're) made to be mine

by iserlohn (lincesque)



Category: Ginga Eiyuu Densetsu | Legend of the Galactic Heroes
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-06-29 16:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15732762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lincesque/pseuds/iserlohn
Summary: “Admiral Reuenthal,” Yang says, just loud enough to be heard over the general chatter. “If you could kindly stay back? I would like a word.”Bittenfeld, standing just ahead of them, side by side with Muller, snorts softly. “Oh, I bet Reuenthal would like more than justa word."





	(say that you're) made to be mine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fentastically](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=fentastically).



> i would like to say thanks for fen for providing [beautiful r18 reuyang imagery](https://twitter.com/fentastically/status/1030496913898987520) (restricted) & also for her [imperial fleet admiral!yang art](https://twitter.com/fentastically/status/1030871198685585408)
> 
> this is 100% dedicated to her & also chris as usual for writing this [flaming piece of hotness](http://beingevil.tumblr.com/post/177134963087/like-you-but-sweeter-reuenthalyang-pwp) and booting my thirst to even higher levels
> 
> empire!yang, thirsty reuenthal, pwp - you've been warned lol

 

*

 

The meeting ends like it always does, with Yang dismissing his admirals with a small smile and a soft word of appreciation for their hard work.

“Did you want to join Eva and I for lunch?” Mittermeyer asks Reuenthal as they both stand, falling in behind the other officers leaving the room.

Reuenthal thinks about it for a moment and is about to agree, taking a meal with the Mittermeyers is hardly a chore especially when he’s been away from Odin for a fairly long period of time, when their Fleet Admiral clears his throat.

“Admiral Reuenthal,” Yang says, just loud enough to be heard over the general chatter. “If you could kindly stay back? I would like a word.”

Bittenfeld, standing just ahead of them, side by side with Muller, snorts softly. “Oh, I bet Reuenthal would like more than just _a word_ ,” he mutters softly enough that both Mittermeyer and Reuenthal are only just able to hear it. Muller glances back and goes pale, tugging at Bittenfeld’s sleeve and going up onto his toes to whisper into his ears urgently.

For his part, Reuenthal does nothing except twist his lips into a tiny smirk. “Next time,” he tells Mittermeyer as he steps back. “Give Eva my regards.”

Mittermeyer nods, and as the last person out closes the door behind himself.

Reuenthal waits for a beat, just until the last of the footsteps become indistinct enough to fade into nothingness before he turns to face Yang.

Yang is standing next to his seat, backed by the Imperial crest across the wall and he’s looking in Reuenthal’s direction, the fingers of his hand clenched somewhat nervously around the back of his chair. He was the one who had insisted on the circular table for this room originally, saying that everyone’s opinions were all equal and valid here.

Reuenthal takes his time, rounding the table slowly, booted feet muffled on the thick, plush carpet. He’s gratified by the way Yang’s eyes follow him, his pink tongue darting out to wet his lips when Reuenthal draws closer and closer.

“Admiral,” Reuenthal murmurs once he’s close enough and he takes Yang’s hand, the one not braced on the back of the chair, and raises it to his lips, bowing his head slightly. He kisses the knuckles first, a gentle brush of his lips, before turning Yang’s wrist and placing another kiss on the palm of his hand.

Yang’s breathing quickens and a hint of red rises to his pale cheeks. His pulse beats in rapid thumps against where Reuenthal smooths his thumb across his wrist in a soothing, repetitive stroke. Yang is the one who steps forward shyly after a moment, lifting his chin and going up onto his toes to press a kiss against Reuenthal’s mouth.

It’s an awkward press of lips, a brief touch that nevertheless manages to ignite the heat that’s been pooling slowly in his belly. Reuenthal slides one hand around Yang’s waist and pulls him close, head dipping down to return the kiss, turning it from chaste to something that is definitely not, kissing Yang deeply until he’s red-faced and panting, fingers curling into Reuenthal’s uniform tightly to keep himself upright.

“Reuenthal,” Yang murmurs, dark eyes wide, as he slides his hands down from Reuenthal’s shoulders to his chest. “Oskar.”

Reuenthal brushes a brief kiss across his temple, against the slight curl of black hair. “Did you miss me, Yang?” he asks, discarding his formal title entirely. It’s just the two of them now after all, and Reuenthal loathes to tease Yang too much, having missed the quiet intimacy between them while he was off-planet over the last few months.

Yang flushes but he holds Reuenthal’s gaze. “Yes,” he replies honestly, fingers curling around the back of Reuenthal’s neck and holding himself close. It’s likely that’s the reason why he had asked Reuenthal to stay behind, so that can share this moment together, hidden away from the prying eyes of everyone else.

Reuenthal’s hands skim lightly across Yang’s back, under his thick white cape, across the fine material of his black uniform. He leans down to brush another kiss over Yang’s cheek, moving down to his neck, placing gentle, open-mouthed kisses over the pale skin.

Yang makes a soft sound and tilts his neck to one side, offering up more access to Reuenthal’s lips, a shiver crawling up his spine and causing his body to shudder gently in Reuenthal’s grasp.

Reuenthal smiles, hiding it in the soft skin of Yang’s throat and lets one hand drift down between their bodies, the heel of his palm pressing up against the feel of Yang, half-hard beneath his uniform pants. Yang gasps, breathing hitching and his hips twitch forward before he can stop himself, rubbing into Reuenthal’s hand, chasing that blessed friction.

Reuenthal doesn’t hesitate, unbuckling the belt and then the solitary button nimbly with his fingers, tugging down the zip and sliding his hand inside, curling his fingers around Yang, feeling him lie hot and heavy in his palm.

There’s already a sticky coating of pre-come that oozes from the tip and Reuenthal uses it to make his grip a little slicker, the slide a little easier as he moves his wrist. Yang’s shoulders are shaking as he clutches at Reuenthal, a charming red blush across his cheeks and crawling down his face to his neck. His mouth is half-open, breathing ragged as Reuenthal’s clever fingers bring him close to the edge.

“Wait, stop.” Yang pants, pushing weakly at Reuenthal’s chest. Reuenthal stills, staring down at Yang. He’s a little confused, yes, but obeys without question, halting his movement and withdrawing his hand. The clear, sticky liquid from Yang covers his fingers and he can’t help it, bringing his hand up while his tongue darts out, lapping over the mess, cleaning it up as much as he can before he pulls a handkerchief from a pocket and wipes the rest away.

Yang blushes even more at this, the flare of colour across his entire face now. Even the tips of his ears are red as he bites his lip and glances up at Reuenthal from beneath his dark lashes. He swallows, throat bobbing nervously as he undoes the clasps of his cloak, letting it fall to the floor, this is soon followed by his outer jacket, his fingers fumbling on the buttons a couple of times in the process.

“I want to try something,” Yang says, standing before Reuenthal in nothing but a thin silk shirt and pants hanging open and low on his hips. He reaches out and tugs at an unresisting Reuenthal until he’s seated in Yang’s own chair at the table.

Yang holds Reuenthal’s gaze as he sinks down to his knees between Reuenthal’s parted knees and Reuenthal himself can’t help the way his heartbeat speeds up, the heat pooling within his stomach ignites, making him crave Yang’s touch.

Yang’s fingers are shaking when he stretches out an arm and unbuckles Reuenthal’s pants, pushing them down as much as he can until he can wrap one hand around Reuenthal’s cock, licking at his lips and hesitating.

Reuenthal reaches out with his hand and curls it around Yang’s cheek, stroking over the smooth skin. “You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs softly, lovingly, tilting Yang’s chin up so their eyes meet. “I’m content to just bring you pleasure.”

Yang looks at him for one long moment before he blinks and smiles. “I know, but I want to,” he says and pulls away from Reuenthal’s hand, lowering his head until his lips are hovering just over Reuenthal’s hard length. He smiles at him, shy even right now, and then licks tentatively over the tip of Reuenthal’s cock once before he does it again, firmer and more assured. Yang’s tongue is wet and hot and it forces Reuenthal to clench his thigh muscles hard so as to not move and thrust into that perfect heat.

It quickly becomes clear that Yang hasn’t done this before - he’s sloppy, both lips and fingers soon wet with saliva and pre-come but he’s eager, lips closing over Reuenthal’s cock and then sliding down, taking as much as he can and wrapping his fingers across the rest.

Reuenthal’s had lovers in the past who’ve excelled at giving oral but at that moment, none of those perfected techniques can hold a candle to Yang, who watches him from beneath fluttering lashes, moaning softly as he mouths over Reuenthal’s hardness, tongue swirling over the tip, messy and perfect.

“Come here,” Reuenthal says, unable to take any more and wanting Yang in his arms. He draws Yang up, pushing his pants down to puddle around his feet and encouraging him to step out of them, one leg after the other. Yang kicks his boots off as well for good measure until he’s in nothing but his shirt, naked from the hips down.

Reuenthal’s gaze is heavy, hot even as he shifts his own hips up enough to push his pants down to his knees before he reaches over and pulls Yang into his lap proper, one leg either side of his thighs, knees next to his hips, straddling him. In this position, he can easily wrap his hand around both of them, the glide of his palm slick from both their hard, leaking cocks and Yang’s mouth.

The feel of the two of them pressed together is exquisite, especially after so long apart, and Reuenthal almost wants to come just like this. He thinks that Yang deserves something more though, so he reluctantly releases his hand after another stroke or two, tilting a smile at the soft whine of disappointment from Yang.

“Hush,” he says softly, tilting his head up to press a kiss one flushed cheek and then the other. “I’m going to make you feel good alright, sweetheart?”

Yang looks down at him from where he’s perched, dark eyes half-mast, pupils blown wide. His thighs tremble around Reuenthal’s hips in anticipation. Reuenthal pets him soothingly with one hand while the other one slides behind, long slim fingers stroking gently against Yang’s hole before two of them press in, slow watching, pleased, as Yang’s back arches lithely at the sensation.

“Oh.” He clenches down on Reuenthal’s fingers, shifting his hips experimentally until the shock of the intrusion passes. He licks his lips and glances at Reuenthal when he rises a little on his knees and then slides back down, fucking himself open.

He’s so beautiful like this, eyes falling closed and hands holding tight to Reuenthal’s shoulders and Reuenthal can’t quite catch his breath in that moment, heart beating fast. He murmurs some absent words of encouragement and offers him a third finger. Yang takes it easily, breathy little pants against Reuenthal’s ear speaking of his pleasure audibly.

“Are you ready?” Reuenthal asks him after a while when Yang’s movements get a little rougher as if he’s trying to find more, something bigger to fill himself on. He takes the open-mouthed kiss that Yang gives as affirmation and he removes his fingers, wrapping his hand around the base of his cock so that Yang can sink down on it.

Yang makes a soft noise of pleasure as he takes Reuenthal’s full, achingly hard length in one slow slide. He throws his head back, chest heaving as he doesn’t even bother to pause to adjust, just fucking himself down onto it, whimpering softly whenever he hits that particularly sensitive spot that makes stars explode behind his eyelids.

Reuenthal’s fingers are so tight around Yang’s hips that he knows he’ll leave bruises. The mere thought of marking Yang pleases him enough that he feels himself get even harder, drawing closer to his own orgasm.

“Oskar, I’m so close,” Yang says as if reading his mind, leaning forward to press his forehead against Reuenthal’s own, hair falling across his eyes, damp with sweat. Reuenthal isn’t much better off, feeling the trickle of sweat down his temple, across the back of his neck, ruining the silk of his shirt.

He meets Yang halfway, noses brushing up against one another as they breathe in sync, staring into each other’s eyes. Tiny little sobs fall from Yang’s half-open mouth as he tightens around Reuenthal, grinding down hard and desperate. Reuenthal reaches blindly between them and closes his hand over Yang’s neglected cock, and strokes him in time with his thrusts.

Yang comes with Reuenthal’s name on his lips, blunt nails digging into Reuenthal’s shoulders hard enough that he can feel the pinch even through the layers of clothing. He feels impossibly tight around Reuenthal’s cock as his back arches again, come splattering across both Reuenthal’s black uniform jacket and his own now utterly ruined shirt.

Reuenthal follows him, his own orgasm hitting him hard as he thrusts up one last time before spending himself inside Yang. They sit like that for one moment afterward, Yang with his head pillowed against Reuenthal’s shoulder, Reuenthal running his fingers gently through his sweaty hair.

“We’d better clean up before someone comes looking for us,” Reuenthal murmurs eventually even as he pulls Yang closer to him, belying his own words. Yang makes a vague affirming noise after a while and does his best to slide off Reuenthal’s thighs under his own power.

He stands, wavering unsteadily on his own two feet as Reuenthal pulls off his stained uniform jacket before also standing and helping Yang out of his completely wrecked shirt. He uses the soft material to clean up Yang as best as he can, swiping gently over the mess that trickles out of him along his inner thigh as he stands upright. He can’t quite resist sliding a finger back into Yang briefly, feeling him shudder, swallowing hard again, still too-sensitive. When Reuenthal pulls out, his finger is slick from his own come and it gives him a thrill, the familiar warmth in his veins slowly heating up again.

Yang’s staring a little fixatedly at Reuenthal’s hands when he pulls out his handkerchief once more and wipes it clean. Reuenthal leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth gently before he whispers in Yang’s ear.

“Do you like the thought of me filling you up?” he asks, voice dropping lower, and the way that Yang can’t quite meet his gaze is answer enough. “Next time I’ll plug you after I’m done, make you go about your day with my come inside you, a reminder of who you belong to.” He strokes fingers over Yang’s smooth stomach, imaging the tiny bulge there in that scenario, listening to Yang’s suddenly stuttering breaths with a tiny smirk.

With that promise of next time lingering between them, Reuenthal helps Yang back into his uniform jacket, buttoning up the thick material and thinking it fortunate that the high neck of the collar can hide the lack of shirt easily. He clips his cape back into place, smoothing the material over Yang’s shoulders and back before he drops easily to one knee before Yang and holds his boots steady as Yang slides his feet back into them. When he stands, Yang clutches his cape with one hand and he looks almost back to normal if one could overlook the flushed, well-fucked look that hovers around him.

Reuenthal drapes Yang’s shirt as well as his own jacket across his arm, securing his trousers and tucking his slightly creased shirt back beneath his waistband neatly. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back into some semblance of his normal style. Yang leans up on his toes and tucks away one stray strand that Reuenthal obviously misses. Reuenthal catches that hand and kisses the wrist, feeling the flutter of Yang’s pulse beneath his lips.

 _I love you_ , he doesn’t say, because he doesn’t need to, not when Yang looks up at him like that, eyes soft and smiling, cheeks coloured faintly pink. He lifts his other hand, sliding it across Reuenthal’s jaw and then up to curl around his cheek, fingers so gentle.

They stand there like that for one long moment, a thin slice of sunlight creeping past the heavy curtains to fall across them, and Reuenthal revels in the fact that Yang is a solid, warm presence around him, breathing in their mingled scent of tea and smoky sandalwood.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Yang says eventually, dropping the words quietly into the space between them.

Reuenthal places a soft kiss against Yang’s forehead, lips curving. “Yes,” he murmurs, drawing back to drink in the sight of his beloved once more. “It’s good to be home.”

 

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://fortress-of-iserlohn.tumblr.com/) & [twitter](https://twitter.com/rawr_loncat)~


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